


Homecoming

by The_Onyx_Moon



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Limb loss, Memory Loss, Mild Smut, Smut, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Onyx_Moon/pseuds/The_Onyx_Moon
Summary: After a mortifying incident your senior year of high school, you swore never to go back home.  Five years later, you’re reeled right back into your tiny town and into the arms of the first man you ever loved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I’ve been M.I.A. lately, BUT I finally landed a big girl job that pays well and I am happy in! Hopefully, that’ll lead to more time for me to write! As always, let me know if you catch any errors
> 
> (obviously, the MCUBarton family doesn't exist here)

You grimaced sourly as you looked down at the envelope in your hand.  What the hell could your old high school want?  Were they asking for donations, offering a deal on class ring repairs?  You hadn’t thought about high school in years.  5 to be exact, so what could they -

“Oh shit!”  You huffed as you ripped at the envelope, a paper cut marring your dry fingers.  How hadn’t you figured it out before then?  Of course, you knew why they were mailing you!  It had been  _five_  years!  Which meant…

“Class reunion.”  You sighed tapping the offending invitation you’d just revealed against your knuckles.  How long had it been since you’d even talked to any of your classmates? 2, 3 years? At least.

You weren’t going, obviously. There was no way. 

After what happened Senior year?

Well, you were more than happy to leave  _that_ time in your life  _far_  behind.

And you could very happily and very easily do so - that is if the school hadn’t mailed an invite to your siblings as well. Or worse…your  _father_.

And just because the universe had a sick sense of humor, the phone in your pocket began to buzz, ringing out dad’s signature ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Kiddo!” The all too peppy voice says back.  “What’s up? Haven’t talked in a while, huh?” You hesitate, wondering what to say that won’t immediately end in your dad asking about when you’d be home next.

“Oh, you know! Just working. I’ve been busy! Really, really busy.”  He chuckles at the exhaustion that you pack on heavy to your tone.

“That’s my girl, saving the world one car at a time!”  You roll your eyes but smile at his tone none the less.

“I hardly think I’d call being a mechanic heroic, dad.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t say ‘Heroic’ exactly then, huh?”  You roll your eyes again.  “Speaking of being busy, what are you doing the weekend of the…” there’s some rustling on the other side of the line as your dad searches for something.  “The fourteenth through the seventeenth?”

Your blood runs cold at the dates he rattles off, the numbers staring back at you from the invitation in your hand.

You sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“The twins told you about the reunion, didn’t they?”

“Hey, I never said anything about any -“

“ _Clint Barton_.”

“Alright!” Your father groans.  He smacks his lips on the other side of the line ruefully at being caught.  “So…Wanda may have mentioned it in passing.  You coming, or what?”

“Oh, C'mon, dad, you know how hard it is to get off work, and I don’t even know how I would afford a flight!”

“I can cover you.”

“Dad.”

“And you could stay here! Save on any hotels.”

“ _Dad_.”

“Wouldn’t have to worry about driving or anything either, I’ve still got the old truck in the garage if you wanna take a wack at it and bring it back to li-”

“Dad!”

“What?”

“Look, I…I just…I don’t know if I can swing it.”  You chew hesitantly on your bottom lip, dreading his answer as silence looms for far too long.  Finally, he sighs, resigned.

“C’ mon, Y/N. The twins already promised they’d be here, and I can’t remember that last time I got to see my lil girl.”

_Yeah, because your ‘lil girl’ refused to return home to that town just as much as you refuse to leave it, Dad!!_

“Dad-”

“Please, honey?”  There are a few beats of silence as you wonder if your dad is trying to puppy dog eye you through the phone. 

Finally, you relent.

“Fine! But I’m driving in because not even my magic hands could get that old truck of yours running again.”  You swear you hear him doing a happy dance.

“I’ll get the rooms set up!”  He says, way too excited.  “You and Wanda can share the twin’s old room, and Piet can crash in your old room. I can’t wait to see you,  Pumpkin.”

And because you were never one to burst your dad’s bubble, you sigh with a small smile.

“Yeah, dad. I can’t wait to see you either. I’ll go…uh, pack, I guess.”

* * *

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed, honestly.

Maybe because you didn’t want to hear your dad whining about how you abandoned him. Again. Or because you hadn’t seen your brother and sister in so long.

You missed your little Hodge Podge family far more than you wanted to admit.

Wanda and Pietro were your adoptive siblings, Clint adopting the three of you all at once. People called him crazy, a single father adopting three incredibly energetic, strong-willed kids all those years ago, but he brags now about how right it all turned out.

The twins were a year younger than you - but insanely smart.  They graduated in your class, having skipped eighth grade altogether, and still ranked higher than you in your class.  Wanda actually would’ve been valedictorian had Jarvis Vision - Vis for short - not transferred in your senior year.

She’s still a little sore about it all.

Your dad’s just so proud his kids made it in the top 10%.  Says he knows he must’ve done something right to deserve such firecrackers.

He has his two baby girls and his little man. The perfect little family. Those three were the best part of this hell hole of a town.

Well, them, and Carol.

Despite dreading seeing anyone from school again thanks to that horrid senior year incident, you were  _so_  looking forward to seeing your best friend again.  You and Carol spoke damn near every day, Skyped, and texted, but it would be so refreshing to see her in person.  Out of everyone you hadn’t seen though, you were the most intrigued to see Steve again.  Steve and…Bucky.

And by ‘see again’ you meant just that.

See them.  From as far away as possible, so far that they can’t see you and send you head first into vivid flashbacks of _that_ night.

But you were definitely interested to see how they’d turned out.  They were the oldest young folks you knew, swearing up and down that they didn’t know how to operate social media and being too frazzled to try to figure it out.  Because of this, you could only hear about them from your dad and god love him, but he wasn’t the most reliable resource for gossip.  For instance, he told you Steve wasn’t the same scrawny little boy you grew up with anymore.  

But seriously, there was no way that was true.

* * *

“Hello?”

The garage door was wide open when you pulled into the driveway. Concerning, considering your father was at work. It seems he had left the door open again, for all the world to see the metaphorical neon sign of  _‘I’m not home, come steal all my stuff!!’_

An awful habit, really, that you’d been trying to get him to break for a while now.

And as you walked into said open garage, it was clear that he still needed to work on it.

“Hey!” You damn near jump out of your skin at the sudden voice that is altogether way too close and you lash out until your hand makes contact with something solid. “ _Ow_! What the hell, sis?”

A strong hand reaches up to ruffle through silver hair and rub at the bump that will no doubt be forming in his hair after that hit.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me Piet?!”

“I didn’t sneak up! I’ve been in the garage this whole time! You literally walked into me!”  Looking down at the tools and creeper under your dad’s ancient truck, you realize…Pietro was right.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you offer up a lame “oops?” as a form of (weak) apology.

“Yeah, yeah. Well at least now that you’re here, you can take over! I don’t know shit about cars. Well, at least not like you.”

The next moment consists of you fumbling to catch all the tools Pietro throws your way.  A single glance into your hands proves that you definitely  _do_  know more about cars than him considering absolutely none of these tools will help fix your father’s bucket of bolts that he calls a truck.

“When did you get in?”  You ask, ditching the tools on to your father’s workbench with several loud clangs.

“Bout an hour ago.  Wanda’s been here since last night, all but rearranging the house.”  You light up at the mention of your sister’s name but take a moment to give Piet a quick squeeze before bolting in the house to find her.

“Was the garage open when you got here?” Pietro’s answer is a single silver eyebrow cocking as if to say ‘I think you already know the answer’.  Groaning, you wave for him to follow you into the house.  The moment you walk in, there is a loud gasp.

“Sis!”  Wanda exclaims the moment you’re through the door, her thin arms wrapping around your neck as the wind is knocked out of you with an ‘Oof!’  “Oh my god, I am  _so_  glad to see you!  Just wait until you see dad!  He got a haircut that he swears up and down is ‘hip’.  And Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“He has tattoos.”

“No!”

“Yes!  A whole  _sleeve_!  I swear the man has lost his mind.”  You’re sure your shock shows as you follow Wanda upstairs to the room you’ll be sharing.  Piet wasn’t kidding when he said she reorganized the house.  

Before you, both twin beds (no pun intended) are made, the dresser in between them wide open.  In one drawer Wanda has set all of her clothes for the week.  Beside this drawer, is an empty one.  You raise your eyebrow at her.  You had always been one to just live out of your suitcase - and when your trip was as short as this one?  You just didn’t see the point in using a dresser if you were just going to leave in a few days.

“So how long are you staying?”  She asks, pulling your attention to where she’s seated on her bed.  You plot your suitcase on the bed before taking your place across from her on your own mattress.

“Well, I…I’m not sure.  I thought I might just wait until Dad gets back tonight, hang tonight, then head out in the morning.”  You shrug.  “Honestly, I’m surprised I even let Dad talk me into tonight.”

“What?!”  You flinch at the screech that all but attacks your ears.  Wanda doesn’t even blanch at your glare.  “You can’t go so soon!  You have to come to the reunion!  Carol will be there!  And Steve!”  She lowers her voice, eyes darting to the door to make sure Pietro isn’t in earshot.  She wiggles her eyebrows up and down whispering, “and Bucky.”

This time Wanda seems to show a little remorse at your flinch at  _his_ name.

“Exactly why I need to get the fuck outta dodge before the reunion.  I  _cannot_  face that man.  Not after what happened.”

“Oh come  _on_ , Y/N!  It’s been  _five_  years!  You’ve got to move past that!  I know he has!”

“I don’t think I can ever move on from that, Wanda.  And I’m sure the only way he’d forget it is if he suffered some kind of freakin’ head injury!”

Silence falls over the two of you following your outburst and a sudden shift in Wanda’s demeanor does not escape you.  You cock your head as a way of asking ‘what’ to which she sighs.

“About that -”  but before she can answer, the sound of a slamming door carries up the stairs - followed by your father’s voice.

“Don’t tell me all three kids are home and I haven’t gotten a hug yet!”  The two of you share a giggle as you rise, making your way to the top of the steps to see your father and find that Wanda wasn’t exaggerating - he did get a hair cut and  _tattoos_.

“Dad!”  You cry,  “What did you  _do_?”  His hands land on his hips as he smirks at your reaction.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N.  Now can I get a hug, or are you going to stand there judging me all night?”

The railings slide under your palms as you run at your father, all but launching yourself into his arms.  You really hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him or just how much you’d need this hug, but here you were on the verge of tears.

“I missed you.”  You mumbled quietly into his shoulder, blinking back your emotions.  You hear ‘missed you too, kiddo’ moments before pulling away and pretending you weren’t about to cry into your father’s shoulder like a child.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”  He sighs, holding you at arm’s length.

“Well maybe if you learned to facetime…”  The look he grants you at that is nothing short of sour, but he keeps any quips to himself as he detaches from you to hand the groceries to Piet.

“Yeah, yeah.  Give me a hard time later.  For now, let’s just get dinner started.”  He stoops then, picking up more bags and you finally realize just how much food he must have in these bags.  Your eyes find Wanda’s and again, you cock your head - with squinted eyes this time - and she reads your question from a mile away.

“Y/N, look -”  Again, your father’s voice cuts her off.

“Are you girls going to help me with dinner or spend all night gabbing?”  Rolling your eyes with a snort, you smile at your sister and make your way to the kitchen - missing how she desperately tries to get your attention once more.

“Since when did you become a gourmet chef?”  You jest, knocking your father’s hip with your own as you saddle up next to him.  “About the same time you got a fuckin  _sleeve_?”  He snorts at that, handing you clean potatoes and a peeler.

“Oh, ha. ha.  Look, I’m a bachelor again!  I had to figure out how to survive on my own all over again.”  He laughs - or rather blows puffs of air out his nose - as he begins chopping onions.  “Y/N, can you go grab the last of the groceries from the truck?”

“Dad, how much more could you possibly have gotten?”  He doesn’t even move to answer, continuing to prepare the feast.  Wanda’s got a big ol’ grin on her face and your furrow your brows at her.  She was always the worst at keeping secrets, so what was your father up to?

Upon exiting the house, your question is answered in the form of your best friend leaning up against your ride.

“Y/N Y/M/N Barton!”  Carol’s voice calls and you nearly drop the half-peeled potato in your hands.  “Get your ass over here and give your best friend a hug!”

A large smile spreads across your face and you find yourself calling back to your father.

“Dad, did you just call Carol groceries?”  He merely chuckles and calls back.

“You better get over there before she tears my house apart.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

“Carol!”  You cry as the door clicks shut as you round the corner, a beaming smile gracing the face of the jean jacket clad woman in front of you.  At the sight of you, she frees her hands from her pockets and opens her arms wide as you meet in the middle.

“Y/N!”

“Carol!”

“Y/N!”

“Pietro!”  Pietro snipes from the door frame, the little shit laughing at his own joke.  “Would you two stop screaming, get in here, and hug already?!”  With a fit of giggles, the two of you do just that.

“Carol Danvers, I can’t believe you came back to this shitty little town!”  You purposely ignore your father’s distant ‘I heard that!’ from the kitchen as you hold her tightly.

“And miss an opportunity to see my best friend?  Not a chance.”  She pulls away finally, slapping your shoulder lightly.  “Besides, Rambeau wanted to meet my parents, and I can’t deny her.”  You can’t help but smile at the mention of Carol’s new girlfriend.  You knew things were getting serious, but Carol was never one to introduce people to the more private parts of her life.  Maria must’ve been special.  You were going to have to get her to introduce you as well.

For as long as you could remember, Carol Danvers had been your absolute best friend.  A lot of people didn’t get her, thought she was too forward, too strong-headed, and too brutally honest.  They weren’t wrong, per se, but it’s part of why you found her so charming.  It was almost impossible not to smile around the woman.

You allow your eyes to glaze over the house full of your favorite humans and can’t help but smile.  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing you came back home?  As long as you could avoid  _him_ , the week would go off without a hitch.

“So when do I get to meet this lovely Maria?”  You ask, knocking your shoulder against Carol’s.  She grins, retaliating far harder than necessary.  Jesus- you’d almost forgotten how insanely strong the woman was.  No wonder the Air Force practically begged her to sign on.

“Well, her flight got delayed.”  Carol looks none too happy about that fact.  “And tomorrow is going to be wholly devoted to her getting to know the ‘rents.  So, looks like it’ll have to be the reunion.”

You heart sinks.  Your smile disappears.

“Oh.”  You manage.  “C-cool?”  You know your disappointment is palpable, especially with how Wanda is grimacing at you in solidarity.  You could get away with spending the night with your family and then bouncing, sure - they’d be more than happy to even get  _that_  much time with you.  But Carol?

Shit, she’d have your head if you skipped town before meeting her girlfriend.

You’d have to go to this reunion.

And you’d have to mingle.

Well…this just got a lot more complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s definitely odd, waking up in your old house.  In your old bed - well, Piet’s old bed, your sister still snoring feet away.

It felt like the many times you forced Piet to switch rooms with you so you and Wanda could have mini-slumber parties after your dad had gone to bed.  You often woke him up with your giggles in the middle of the night.  He’d be angry for all of two seconds before giving into your puppy dog eyes and warning that the two of you had better be ready for school on time the next day.

Of course, you never were, having stayed up too late the night before, and it always resulted in your father speeding like a mad man to get you there on time before the principle - Mr. Banner could reprimand you.  You also suspected it had something to do with your beautiful homeroom teacher Ms. Romanoff dazzling him with a smile each and every time she helped sneak you and your sister inside the building without a late pass.

“Hey,”  Wanda peeps as she stretches awake.  The sheets crinkle with her movements, and you’re having a serious case of deja vu.  “You been up long?”

“Nah.  Just a few minutes at most.”  She hums in acknowledgment, grabbing her phone from her nightstand.

“Any plans for the day?”

“Well, I had been planning on heading back today-”  Wanda groans from her side of the room.

“Y/N, you can’t-”

“ _But_ I think I’ll spend the day with my annoying little sister.”  A crooked grin graces her face as her disappointment melts away.  You narrowly dodge the pillow thrown in your face.

“Don’t scare me like that, jerk.”  She ignores your ‘but it’s so easy!’ and gets up to make her way toward the bathroom.  “I call potty privileges!”

You groan at the old saying, the one that let whoever called the ridiculous words to use the bathroom first with no qualms.  You hadn’t heard it in forever and it was still just annoying as it was all those years ago.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!”

“What is the point of potty privileges if I can’t use it all?”

The pillow you toss back at her meets the door as she shuts it quickly behind herself.  You were regretting switching rooms - and in turn, bathrooms - with Pietro now.

* * *

“How’s business?”  Wanda asks, shoveling food into her mouth.  You shrug, finishing your own bite before elaborating.

“Boring.  The garage down the road gets most of the business.  You’d be surprised how many people are still so pig-headed about a woman mechanic touching their car.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”  Your sigh comes out through your nose as you chew heavily, brow screwing tight as you consider sharing more with your sister.  Her simply locking her eyes with yours prompts you to continue.  “I’m thinking of selling.  Traveling.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at that, her fingers narrowly missing dropping her spoon.

“Really?  I thought you loved your business and your town.  What would you do instead?”

“I dunno.  I think that’s what’s so enticing about the whole idea.  I’m tired of this shitty routine.  Go to work, barely get by, return to an empty apartment, and fall asleep alone.  It gets old quick.”  She nods thoughtfully, her cheeks slightly coloring at your mention of sleeping alone.  This doesn’t escape you.  “So what’s his name?”

“W-what?”  This time, her shaking fingers don’t catch her spoon in time.  She grimaces as she has to fish it out of her bowl and towel it off on her napkin.

“The guy that’s got you blushing and bumbling.”  You giggle.  “What’s his name?”  

You can tell she’s thinking of avoiding the question, eyes cast down at her food as she purses her lips.  Finally, she speaks.

“It’s Steve.”

It’s your turn to fumble.

“Rogers?!”

“Yeah?”  She’s grinning sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Wanda!  That’s incredible!  Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I mean, you’re always so busy…”  A pang of guilt clenches your heart at her downtrodden frown.  “Plus I just didn’t know how to tell you.  I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

“Well…with him and Bucky being so close and all…”

Ah.

It was true.  The men were inseparable.  Bucky was over at your place all the time after you started dating, Steve often tagging along just so your dad wouldn’t be all up in your business about your boyfriend being over.  The three of you had many a Playstation battles in the family game room and after a short while, the twins joined in.  Piet and the guys got along well enough, him and Steve constantly cracking jokes with each other.  You definitely didn’t miss the way Wanda would moon over the small blonde from the couch, her eyes practically forming little hearts.

You’d urged her to make a move - let him know how she felt! - but she always changed the course of conversation.  She’d mention that she was younger - to which you’d argue a year wasn’t that different.  She’d say he was out of her league - ‘Seriously?  Wanda, he’d be lucky to have you!’ She’d remind you that he had Peggy.  You wished you could’ve dismissed that fact more, but Peggy was a good girl.  Sweet and smart as a whip.  You had many double dates together.  You even considered her somewhat of a friend.  You wonder where she ended up…

“How’d that happen?”  You ask, food abandoned as you fold your hands together and anticipate her story.  She goes on to explain that after high school, Steve went off and joined the army.  _So dad wasn’t bullshitting you_ …  He and Peggy called it quits after they learned that the distance had proved too much.

It was on one of his trips home that he was visiting his mother Sarah that he and Wanda reconnected.  Bucky was still on the base, having joined earlier than Steve and having a bit of a different schedule.  She gushes about how big he’d gotten and those little heart eyes returned.

“He was certainly cute before, but  _Y/N_ , his  _muscles_!  He’s gorgeous!”

You giggle with her, shouldering the bill before she can protest and urge her to continue.  She goes on to tell you that he made more visits home once they started really talking and one night after a particularly sweet date - where he took her back to his hotel room and blew her mind - he asked her to move in with him.

That shocks you a little, your eyebrows shooting up several inches.

You knew she’d moved out of your dad’s place about a year after graduation, and that she’d moved to Brooklyn.  She’d definitely left out that she’d moved in to Fort Hamilton with Steve Rogers.

“Wanda, I hate that you thought you had to keep this a secret from me.”  Truly, you do.  Your sister deserves nothing but happiness and Steve is a wonderful man.  It’s not his fault he’s attached to Bucky Barnes’ hip.  “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, sometimes I can still hardly believe it.”  You smile at the admiration in her voice and ask her how long the two had been seeing each other.  She’s hesitant to answer, and after she says “Three years.” you realize why.

There’s no denying that you’re hurt that she kept this from you, but your happiness for her still stands.  It’s just slightly dampened by the realization that it means she and Steve will be together at the reunion.

Avoiding your high school sweetheart was just getting harder and harder.

There was no way you were going to get through this weekend without some hard liquor.

* * *

The house is quiet when you get home, all the lights off save for the one in the living room.  Upon entering and seeing what that light illuminates, a smile spreads over your face.

“Wanda,” you ask eyeing the pillow fort, popcorn bowl, and bags of candy before you.  “What’s going on?”

“Girl’s night!”  A voice that isn’t Wanda’s answers, and for the second time in 24 hours, Carol Danvers comes out of nowhere to surprise you.  “The house is ours for the next few hours!  So let’s pop open the ice cream and talk about our feelings and shit!”

You snort at Carol’s tone.  The sarcasm isn’t lost on you, but  _Christ_ what she’s laying down doesn’t sound half bad.

“So are you gonna drop another fuckin bomb on me or somethin’?”  You ask halfway through  _10 Things I Hate About You_.  Carol laughs at that, shoving peanut butter chunk ice cream into her mouth.  “Does Maria have a fuckin kid or something?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”  You groan, looking to your sister now.  The guilt is written across her face and you swear you’re about to explode.  “What now?”

“Oh no, it’s Dad’s secret to tell, not mine.”

“What, you gonna tell me he’s seeing Ms. Romanoff?”  Your snort stops short when silence answers you.  “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this shit.”

The dark room hums with weak light from the TV, Heath Ledger singing in the background as you chug the rest of your beer before moving for another.  You miss the look exchanged between the two other women.

“Y/N,”  Wanda begins, pausing the movie.  Ah.  This was a trap.  Girl’s Night my ass.  “Look, there is something you should know.”

“About Bucky.”  Carol elaborates and you hate when she gets this serious.  She could be downright unnerving.

“Lemme guess.  Happily married with kids?”  You won’t fess up to the immense relief that washes over you when they say ‘no’.  You’re not sure your heart could take _that_.  “This…related to the army?”

“It is.”  Your heart sinks at that.  Ok, maybe him being married and happy with someone else wasn’t the worst thing out there and you find yourself praying that he isn’t dead.  “There was an accident.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no.

“Couple years ago, a routine sweep in Afghanistan went awry when someone in his squad set off a landmine.”  Carol’s voice is distant as your heart hammers in your ears.  You retreat further into your blankets, tugging on the hoodie that hugs you tightly.  You’d found it in your closet before remembering it used to be Bucky’s and at this moment it feels like your heart would jump out of your chest if it wasn’t being protected by the oversized thing.  “ _That_ poor bastard didn’t make it, and Bucky had been standing very close…”

“If you two don’t stop with this ‘build up the tension and pause for dramatic effect until Y/N has a heart attack’ shit, I’m going to fucking kill you.”  You warn coolly, though you’re only half kidding.

“He survived.”  Wanda clarifies, looking sheepish at your threat.  You burrow deeper into the hoodie.  “But…just barely.  Y/N, he was seriously hurt.  Took him years to recover.  He lost his left arm.”  You inhale sharply.  “And…his memory.”  At that, you forget how to breathe entirely.

“He’s a little better now,”  Carol assures you, the movie completely forgotten as your sister and best friend scoot close enough to hold your hands in theirs.  “They wasted no expense on his recovery,  the physical therapy, the operations…the mental evaluations.  He’s much better than he had been when he got shipped home after it all.”

“We just didn’t want you to be caught off guard by it all.  He’s still the Bucky we knew in high school, albeit a little more to himself.”

“Does…does he remember-”

“I don’t know,”  Wanda answers honestly, and you can see it pains her to not be able to give you a straight answer.  “There’re still holes in his memory, but from what I could tell from what Steve said is he still remembers  _you_.”

He remembers you.

Relief washes over you like ice and you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Could this be a second chance with the first and only man you’ve ever loved?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typically try to write the reader’s physical appearance as vaguely as possible to keep it open to as many readers’ interpretation as I can - but I’ve been struggling with a lot of body image issues as the moment, so it definitely came out in my writing. I apologize if that alienates you, but it’s only described for a brief moment.

You’d convinced Pietro to trade beds with you that night.

You needed some space, plus you didn’t want to keep Wanda awake with the tears that wouldn’t stop coming and going in the twilight hours.

Bucky had been hurt and you’d had no idea.

He wasn’t yours anymore, you knew that.  You’d made sure of that when you cut off all communication and ran like a coward after graduation.  Moved away without so much as a word, much to the displeasure of your family and friends, but you just couldn’t face him after everything.

To know that he could’ve died and you wouldn’t have known until now?

You hugged his hoodie even tighter tonight to you at the thought.

It keeps you as warm as he did and your heart shutters in your chest at the memory of being in his arms.  It keeps tears streaming all night long.

At some point, you’d started chewing on the strings, your teeth gnashing at the stale threads.  It’s not a pretty thing, stained from where you dropped ice cream on him one day at the park.  He’d laughed when it hadn’t come out and you pouted, apologizing profusely.  He swore it would be a badge of honor - part of being your boyfriend.  You’d smiled at that.

Would Bucky still smile the same?

Your smile fades.  And then you fade too - into a dreamless sleep.The day is a little uneventful leading up to the reunion.

Your family has lunch together - some simple tuna fish salad that your dad insists on making.  It’s there that he tells you he and Ms. Romanoff - Natasha - had been seeing each other for a while now, so he’d be at the reunion tonight as her date.  You smile at that, happy for him, but also really  ~~unsure~~  intrigued to see how that would play out this evening.

To think you could’ve bounced yesterday and avoided this all together.  But then Wanda would’ve never let it go and you didn’t want that hanging over your head for the rest of forever.

So you stayed in this little town, heart hammering as you got ready for tonight.  Wanda’s wearing a gorgeous, scarlet red dress with a corset bodice when she informs you that your jeans and blouse are far too casual.  Piet actually backs her up, the silver-haired young man sporting slick blue slacks that fold at his ankles and suit jacket combo.  He’s not wearing a tie and you’re honestly not surprised.  Somehow, he makes the simpler look seems as dressy as Wanda and you know there’s no convincing them to let you stay in this look.

Somehow, they persuade to change with your father’s help.  Wanda’s old strappy emerald dress hugs your curves in  _just_  the right way and runs all the way to the floor, where it’s accompanied by heels that you’re still sour over wearing.  You take solace in the fact that they don’t attempt to make you lose your leather jacket, though.

They’d have to pry it off your cold, dead arms.

So you meet in the middle and keep the damn thing on.

* * *

The beat up rust bucket your father generously calls a truck pulls into the parking lot not a moment too soon.  The second the engine dies, you’re hopping out - holding the handle for support in the godforsaken heels Wanda lent you.

“I still don’t understand why I couldn’t wear my boots.”  You huff, swinging your heel up to your reach to slip your foot back into the proper seating on the sole.

“Because the grease stains from work don’t necessarily mesh with the dress code,”  Wanda assures you.  You huff, hugging your jacket tighter over your chest as you make your way to the door.  At least you still had that to hide behind.

Upon entering the hotel lobby where the reunion is being held, however, makes you realize that you’re about to lose that safety blanket as well.

The heat is cranked to hellish, and how any of these men are still wearing their jacket you just don’t understand.  Begrudgingly, you take yours off and toss it at the gentlemen taking jackets.  A growled warning to not lose it has him gulping before ducking into the closet.

“You look, gorgeous, Y/N.  Nothing to be self-conscious about.”  Your sister assures you.  “The dress fits like a glove.  I’m glad I never wore it, because I could never do it the same justice.”

“Oh, shut it.”  You huff.  She giggles, Pietro too, before he’s joining in this uncomfortable compliment session.

“No, seriously.  Can you imagine Wanda wearing something like this?  Her arms aren’t nearly as cut as yours!”  You shrug, fighting the smirk that threatens at your lips.  One of the many perks of your overtly physical job - your musculature is definitely something to be proud of.

“There’s a reason my dress isn’t backless.”  She shrugs in agreement, taping on the dip of your shoulder blade where the material of the dress melts away to show off your powerful back.  “I’m going to find Steve.  Try not to break too many hearts while I’m gone.”  At her wink, she, Pietro, and your father all peel off to find their dates.

Standing alone now, you notice the number of eyes on you and immediately flush.  The athletic tapering of your waist and strapping shoulders has never been something you’d considered visually appealing, or especially feminine, but the dress you wore was helping you to see that maybe your body could be as sexy as your sister’s or best friend’s lithe forms.

Speaking of Carol…

“I fucking hate you.”  You tell [Carol](https://marvelxlegends.tumblr.com/post/184618229587/shes-really-trying-to-kill-us-isnt-she) when you see her at the punch bowl.  “Only you could make this look good.”  You’re also perturbed at the fact that no one talked her out of wearing pants because she’s sure as shit wearing the hell out of the casual suit.

At least she was wearing heels too, so you weren’t alone in that.

“Easy, tiger, I’m taken.  Though I know I’m the only woman you’d go gay for.”  She smacks your shoulder lightly when you hum in disagreement, rattling off some other names just to taunt her.

“Where is the woman of the hour, anyway?”  You ask sipping the punch Carol hands you.  The tartness has your nose scrunching and you turn to your friend with a laugh of - “This needs alcohol.”

She vehemently agrees.

“Talking with Lang.”  Her own lips smack as she points across the room to her girlfriend and your old classmate.  “Bonding over being single parents, I think.”

Their daughters are nowhere to be seen, no doubt being babysat by grandparents or the like and you notice Scott’s arm around a gorgeous woman with a tight, high ponytail.  After staring for a few seconds, realization dawns on you with a gasp.

“Is that Hope Van Dyne?!”  Carol casts her eyes toward you, nodding with a smug smile.  “Holy hell, when did she get so damn hot?!”

“When she grew out that damn bob.”

Another snort is shared between you before the two of you make your way over to the group and make your presence known.  Scott recognizes you instantly, the big ol’ goof throwing his arms around you and marveling over how different everyone looks.  He reintroduces you to Hope, proud as a peach when he emphasizes the word ‘girlfriend’.  To her credit, she seems more charmed than perturbed and you smile to yourself as she hugs you.

“Y/N, this is Maria.”  Carol jumps in, her hand on the other woman’s back.  You smile at the gesture, offering your hand - which is batted away for a hug instead.

“Please, Carol’s told me so much about you - probably too much - I think we’re past a handshake at this point.”  You have to agree with her.

As the night stretches on, you visibly relax, the bands of stress in your back unwinding with each familiar face you see.  No one seems to be laughing at you, in fact, they’re all eyeing you hungrily and you have to excuse yourself from several conversations before your blush gives away how flattered and simultaneously nervous you are.

You even get to see Ms. Romanoff, your father’s hand cupped possessively around her waist.  The detail doesn’t slip past your attention and as you greet her cheerfully, you and your dad share a knowing look with each other.  

He’d dated on and off when you were kids - mostly crazy women - but being the single father to three kids was usually a deal breaker.  He was fine with it, though.  He’d pick you three over a lady any day.

Until Natasha Romanoff, it seemed, but then she’d always been protective of you three…so maybe it wasn’t so much picking one over the other as it was tagging in a new partner who loved you three just as much.

You excuse yourself before you can get too sentimental and see your siblings on separate sides of the room.

Pietro’s chatting with Vis, the unlikely friends chatting animatedly about something that you decide not to interrupt.  Instead, you veer toward your sister and the massive blonde man at her side.  Upon closer inspection, your jaw drops.

“Steven?!”  You screeched, launching yourself into his arms.  His deep chuckle resonated in your ear as he hugged you tightly.

Holy shit.

He was  _massive_.  And handsome.  And as dapper as ever.

“Heyya, Y/N.”

“Man, what the hell have you been eating?”  You giggle, poking his new biceps that had never been there before.  Hell, none of these muscles had been here before!  Steve had always been insanely tiny - smaller than you, even - yet here he was, towering over all present company and at least twice as wide.

“Well,”  he chuckles, his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “being in the army will do that to ya.”

 _Well, I’ll be damned_ \- you think -  _Dad was telling the truth!_

To her credit, Wanda’s not looking _too_  head over heels as she stares up at the man who’s arm is linked with hers.  In high school, he and Peggy had been inseparable.  The two were usually connected at the hip, and you always pitied Wanda and the crush she was nursing.  There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the two were going to get married and have half a dozen little cherub babies.  It seemed this was still true, as Peggy was across the ballroom, pregnant for baby number three.  The only detail was that it wasn’t with  _each other_.  Peggy’s husband was nice, a little shy but then he must’ve felt a little like a spectator in a room where everyone but he had grown up together.

Still, Steve’s smile is as big as ever as he presses a kiss to the crown of your sister’s head.  You’re sure your dad was thrilled with the news.  He always had liked Steve better than Bucky, and so tonight must’ve been his dream come true.

Usually, where ever Steve Rogers is, Bucky Barnes is sure to follow.  But tonight, you hadn’t seen so much as a hair on his head.  He was nowhere to be seen, but then you weren’t even sure if the smooth-talking boy who’d stolen your heart still existed.

You do your best to swallow past the lump in your throat and smile, flashing white teeth between your perfectly painted red lips.  How do you go about asking where he is if you  _don’t_ want him to suddenly appear?

“So,”  you mumble to the couple, “When did you get in, Steve?”  He smiles, explaining how he and Wanda had actually flown in together but had split at the airport to each see their respective parent.  You muse on that, wondering if being the children on a single parent is part of what they bonded over.

“Was…was it just the two of you?”  You ask hesitantly, nursing the sour punch in your fist.  Your meaning isn’t lost on either of them.

“He’s, ah, he’s around here somewhere,”  Steve mumbles awkwardly as Wanda gifts you with a smile that looks more like a grimace than anything else.  It’s an odd feeling that wraps around and throughout you.  You’d almost wondered if he’d just skipped it altogether.  But no.  He’s here, somewhere.

The first man you ever loved and left is just wandering this hell forsaken event and could pop up at any moment.  You excuse yourself under the guise of needing more punch when in reality you’re off to find something stronger.  Something  _much_  stronger.

 _The kitchens will be my first stop_ , you tell yourself, _off the beaten path where no one will think to look and will no doubt be stacked to the ceiling with liquor._ You know your dad has a flask tucked into his suit jacket, but there’s no way he’d share it with you knowing just who and what you’re attempting to avoid.

So it’s to the kitchen you go.

And immediately regret it upon pushing through the swinging double doors.

There, only feet from you, flirting with a fucking waitress, is your high school sweetheart.

Holy.  Fucking.  _Shit_.  And you thought Steve had changed…

He was gorgeous before, you remind yourself.  Chiseled chin always clean shaven and beautifully bouncy hair coifed back with his favorite gel.  He was wiry back then.  Strong, of course, but nothing like the wall of a man leaning against the counter now.

His hair cascades in chestnut waves, curling toward his sharp, stubbled jaw when it hits his shoulders.  His shoulders…Jesus, he’s broad.  At least double the size he was when you’d last seen him.  Thick as a fucking brick house and you find yourself swallowing heavily when you realize he’d been honorably discharged.  If this is what he looked like after losing a limb, losing his memory, and being stateside for two years, you could only imagine the ovaries annihilating sight he’d made when he was in his army prime.

Still, his thighs are like trucks, keeping his leaning form upright with both of his fists stuffed tightly in the pockets of his leather jacket.  The blonde waitress is smiling at him warmly, giggling at his low voice and everything comes slamming back into you like a fist to the gut.

You have got to get out of here.

The door’s only several paces away, a crate of wine right beside it and you smile to yourself as you anticipate your escape from this room and your escape from reality at the bottom of that bottle.  Too bad you don’t see the freaking cutlery hanging off the bottom of the shelf beside you as you step toward your goal and therefore announce your presence with several deafening clangs as the metal knocks against each other before landing on the ground.  You accompany them, your heels tangling in your dress and pulling you down  _hard_ with a yelp.

The waitress jumps, chirping ‘I’ve got to get back to work!’ before disappearing through the other set of double doors on the other side of the room.  As soon as she’s gone, you nurse the side of your head, cursing quietly - unaware of the footsteps growing closer to you.

It’s only when his shadow crawls up your sprawled figure do you look up and accept your fate.  It only takes one glance in those piercing blue eyes to fall right back head over heels.

He’s smiling widely at you, his teeth perfect and white.  You find yourself missing his crooked, adolescent smile a little…at least that one only set your heart ablaze…this one?  Well, this smile sets a fire a little further south.

“Fancy meeting you here, Doll.”  Doll.  Oh fuck, no one’s called you that since  _that_  night in the ferris wheel.  A hot blush blooms across your cheeks.   _Abort, abort, abort!! Get out of here, Y/N!_

“Bucky!”  You say with as much faux surprise as you can muster.  You’d just die if he knew you were watching him and that woman just moments before.  “I, I…I was just looking for the good stuff.”  You chuckle hand wrapping around the neck of the bottle at your side.  His eyes dart to the movement, darkening when your fingers curl around the glass and your heartbeat speeds up.

“Hmm, if you’re looking for the good stuff, you won’t find it in here.”  He chuckles, offering you a hand while his left-hand darts into his jacket.  When he pulls out a flask, your eyes brighten considerably.  The sight makes him smile ever wider.  “If I remember correctly, this was your poison of choice in high school.”  The flask is opened, offered to you gently.  You sniff at the liquid inside and bite back the smirk it elicits.  Indeed, he did remember correctly and your heart warms at the thought that he still carried around a flask of your favorite liquor around.

“Thanks.”  You mumble once you’re on your feet once more.  Sheepishly, you brush at the material and right it against your skin.  His stare is like fire on the back of your skull and you’re absolutely terrified to stand upright and make eye contact again.

Who’s to say you won’t spontaneously burst into flames this time?

“Wow,”  A whistle, and you jump, head snapping up at the sound.  What the hell is he doing?  “They told me you’d only gotten more beautiful.  I didn’t think that was possible.”  Your mouth flops open as your high school sweetheart hits on you like a complete stranger would and completely unlike someone who would want nothing to do with you after being humiliated and abandoned.  “You look absolutely stunning, Y/N.”

“You remem-”  His eyes flash with some unbridled pain and you bite the sentence short.  Clearing your throat, you start again.  “You think so?”

He chuckles so lowly it sends shivers right down your spine.

“I’d have to be blind or insane not to.”  His fingers thread through your own and you realize suddenly that you’d been holding his hand this entire time.  A look of disappointment paints his features when you pull it away, but he recovers quickly.  You watch as it slips into his pocket and he nods towards the back doors of the kitchen.  “C’mon, I know where we can get something to mix with that.”

Realizing you still have the flask, you hand it back timidly - careful not to let your fingers brush against his lest you combust instantly.  He cocks his head, taking the silver metal back gingerly.  With a smirk, he pins you where you stand.

“Unless you want to get back to the reunion?”

You gulp, eyes darting between the door behind you and the man before you.  Well…did you?

**Author's Note:**

> On hold.


End file.
